Total pages in book: 46
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 43072 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 215(@200wpm)___ 172(@250wpm)___ 144(@300wpm)
“One day, I’m going to marry you, plant a baby inside you, and that’s going to happen soon,” I state as a fact. Her eyes get dreamy. She doesn’t need to respond. The way her body seems to float, giving me more of that sweetness she holds back, that’s all I need as an answer.
THIRTY-THREE
Hendrix
“Do you hear that?” I ask Madden the next morning. The two of us are lying in his bed together, his chest to my back, a leg between mine, notching his thigh until it’s pressed against my aching core. Yes, aching for two very good reasons. The way Madden worked me up throughout the night was out of this world amazing, even though I may have cussed him in my head a few times when he was using his tongue on my clit, then pulling away completely, until his lips were on mine, allowing me to taste myself. He didn’t stop there. Madden would glide his cock against the seam of my pussy, building me up once again, then moving away. Seriously, the man is a machine. How he was able to hold back, I’ll never understand.
“Hear what?” he murmurs into my ear. His lightly bearded stubble slides along my neck. His arm is beneath my neck, hand holding my breast, fingers twisting and pulling on my nipple. His other is cupping where he had no problem smacking me once his cock was finally sliding in and out of me only hours ago. “Hear what, Hendrix?” he asks again, as if he’s not the reason I’ve lost my train of thought. It’s a good thing that my feelings for him run deep, so deep that when those three words tumbled from his lips last night, I returned them without any hesitation.
“Huh?” I reply, completely forgetting about what I was going to tell him. Of course, that could be because we we’re lying on our side, facing the view that’s the Nevada skyline and canyons, or the fact that I’m on cloud nine in Madden’s ridiculously comfortable bed. I’m talking it’s soft with the right amount of firmness, the sheets slide along your skin like it’s satin, and the pillows are on a whole other level. We might as well be staying in a luxurious hotel, and while my stuff at home isn’t the cheap stuff, it has nothing on Madden’s. I guess the same could be said about his house. When I drove through the gated community, my knuckles were tight on the steering wheel, literally white in color. The homes were big, some bigger than others. Madden shocked me. After seeing what he sold the game for and how big of a company he owns, I kind of assumed his house would be of the ostentatious size. It isn’t, more similar in size to Journey and Nico’s, which isn’t small by any means. Still, neither are McMansions, which helped calm down my riotous nerves. In a sense, I was expecting a bachelor pad home. Madden proved me wrong again. His home is cozy with its warm wood and neutral tones, with a lived-in feel. I mean, sure, he has a massive television and leather couches, but other than that, it’s comfortable. We ate dinner at the kitchen island, and the kids made a mess like kids usually do. Madden ignored it until they were finished. And yes, I’d be a fool not to admit that my ovaries were fluttering due to the fact that seeing him with his nieces did a whole lot to my sense of self-preservation in holding out when it came to children. A thought that I never wanted to take place, nor did I ever feel like it would be for me, suddenly took hold of me, making me envision a life with Madden, two of our children along with their cousins running through the house, jumping in the pool, laughter and chattering surrounding us. It was in that moment that I knew a life with Madden is exactly what I wanted. The hang-up that he kept the fact he had money, like mega money, from me didn’t matter. I didn’t want him for that. I wanted him for the way he let my sparkle shine, the way he could laugh at my brand of craziness, how when he looks at me, it’s as if I’m the only person on the planet for him, much like he is for me.
“Can’t think clearly, sweetheart?” He teases me as he flips us until I’m lying flat on my stomach, his mouth still at the shell of my ear as he pulls my hips up until I get the memo and go to my hands and knees. The good part about last night was that we talked. God, did we talk, before making up, which has to be the best make-up sex of all sex. We talked about our sexual history, or lack thereof, on both of our parts. How I’ve got birth control covered and that we both didn’t want to deal with condoms.